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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24161461">Shotgun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polycoria/pseuds/Polycoria'>Polycoria</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>King Falls AM (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Marijuana, Smoking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:48:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,847</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24161461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polycoria/pseuds/Polycoria</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There were like, four gay guys in King Falls- Ben had decided a while ago that it’d be easier to just focus on girls. He liked girls, okay? He could just settle for being able to like girls. He liked Emily- he thought that maybe, she liked him back. Or she was just being nice. His experience with either situation was a bit… limited.<br/>But Sammy…</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Arnold/Sammy Stevens</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>68</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Shotgun</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>4:10am in the King Falls radio station- it was cheesy to take a break now, right? Well, okay, it wasn’t the <em> weed </em> time <em> just </em> yet, but there had been a bit of a… stiffness, to Sammy, that Ben had been worried about. Shit, he’d had to use the censor button so many times that he was wondering if it might be getting worn out. It’d been a rough day, leading to a rough night filled with rough conversation that at this point, Ben was hoping they could… wind down from.<br/><br/>So before Sammy could start on another tangential tirade about the most <em> recent </em> obnoxious thing Mayor Grisham had stated (it was a doozy, don’t ask), Ben just let out a bit of a laugh, his personality going On as he leaned closer to the mic.<br/><br/>“Hah-hah, okay Sammy, before Grish and his cronies come bearing down on us with guns germs and steel, why don’t we cut to a commercial- you know, pay the bills a lil bit before having our funding put in jeopardy again?”<br/><br/>He smirks, eying the crunchy Florida dj playfully. “Maybe play some of that free licenced music we found, yeah?”<br/><br/>Sammy coughed for a moment, before sighing, nodding his head slowly- his shoulders were tightly held, his messy bun was skewed out of place, and there was a clear exhaustion in the late-night/early morning talk show host. “Yeah, I guess so- unless you’re looking to just dramatically change the subject so that we don’t get- how do the kids put it… ‘get ganked’.”<br/><br/>Ben snorted, already reaching for a particular wooden box- it was time to be a good co-host. “So you’re just showing your age like that now, huh?” He says casually, opening the box and releasing the heady aroma into the room. “You gonna just start talking about all the great movies you grew up with in the 80s now? Those little mildly racist ones~?”<br/><br/>Eying Ben’s hands as he worked with the green flower, Sammy chuckles, his hand idly moving to his hair to redo it. Ben told him to put it up <em> properly </em> , but who had the damn time? Loose bun was convenient. Nobody saw him with it like this except.<br/><br/>Well.<br/><br/>Ben, that was.<br/><br/>“...look, I can still enjoy my casually problematic movies if I <em> acknowledge </em> when there’s bad stuff in it, right? If I got angry at every *bleep*y representation of a gay guy on tv, I’d just have to turn off the tv.”<br/><br/>He raised an eyebrow as Ben hit the censor button. “...really. Can’t even swear to call that out, can I?”<br/><br/>The sarcastic smirk on his face had Ben looking rather <em> quickly </em> back down at his work, deftly picking buds apart, something cathartic to do here. Even distracted with this task, he could always hit that censor button when he sensed a swear.<br/><br/>“I mean if you wanna be the guy that <em> has </em> to cuss to get his point across, fine, but we can both be that guy off the air.”<br/><br/>“Don’t <em> gatekeep </em> me, Ben Arnold,” the older man returned with a chuckle, leaning across the booth to pick out the pipe they’d use- a glass sherlock that Ben called Sammy’s ‘old man’ pipe.<br/><br/>“Showing that age again Sammy, can’t even get down with our <em> lingo </em> properly. Sounds like you could use lessons.”<br/><br/>“...riiiight… so. Sharply changing the subject again- what was it that you and Emily were talking about earlier? Some kind of convention opening up in town.”<br/><br/><em> Oh </em> boy, were they bringing this up now? They were bringing this up now. Well, he’d wanted a change of subject... <br/>“Yeah, uh, well, it seems that there’s now <em> officially </em> enough uh. Furries, in King Falls, for some kind of… meetup. Now, I’m not saying I <em> wouldn’t </em> go just based on some discomfort with running into maybe somebody dressed as a beloved childhood character- or freakish mascot- but…”<br/><br/>Sammy raised his eyebrow, shaking his head. “You should go- I know the perfect costume for you- you should go as a racco-” <br/><br/>“Don’t you dare.”<br/><br/>He says it so quickly it may as well have been one word, and Sammy sits back sharply in his seat, belting out a laugh. “So what, is this something we’re advertising, or…”<br/><br/>Ben shook his head. “No, no, well, we just overheard some people talking about it, and like, I don’t wanna be shitty about it or anything. I’m just not a furry.”<br/><br/>“Sure you’re not getting too hung up on whether you’d go or not?”<br/><br/>“Sammy,” he warned, his voice lowering slightly as he looked up from under dark curls. His friend smirks back, but he drops it- at least, that end of it.<br/><br/>“Well, at the very least, it sounds like we’ve got a new event coming up in King Falls, huh? Should be a good way to kill time, even if you’re not into it.”<br/><br/><em> “Hah. </em> Well, then. While we let our listeners ruminate over just exactly how much furry stuff Sammy is into, let’s get some of that free music playing, huh?”<br/><br/>Nodding, Sammy leans closer to the mic again. “That’s right- enjoy the next 20 minutes of existential crises and really underground music, because that’s what we have before closing out. Back in a bit, folks.”<br/><br/>The <em> ON AIR </em> light dims, and Sammy leans back with a sigh, wheeling his seat closer to Ben. “You about done?” he asked, and the smaller man chuckled. “I have your pipe, old man, here-” He hands it off, fully packed, before leaning back in his own seat- trying to ignore how Sammy leaned his elbow onto <em> his </em> chair’s seat, his friend having gotten… a bit more comfortable with being closer, than he’d used to be.<br/><br/>The mic was off, so…<br/><br/>Picking up the box again, Ben tidies up a bit. “You even comfortable like that?” He asks, watching as Sammy lit the pipe, the dark room flashing with the small flame. <br/>It illuminated his face rather… nicely, really. And still, Ben was glad it was dark, that Sammy couldn’t see his own.<br/><br/>The older man shrugs, breathing in casually- a few seconds passing before he exhales, the pungent aroma filling the room. “I’m perfectly comfortable. Feels… nice, to be this comfortable with somebody. You know? I’m pretty glad about the whole roommate situation, helps that I’m not by myself anymore, but…”<br/><br/>Ben shakes his head. “Look, I get it- you’re allowed to admit that you’re human. Even if the jury’s still out on that~”<br/><br/>Blowing smoke in Ben’s face, he returns a deeper chuckle. “If I’m not human, what the hell are you, then? We don’t have to get into furry stuff, I swear.”<br/><br/>“Sammy Stevens if you’re a furry I will unfriend you right here, right now.”<br/><br/>“...this isn’t facebook, Ben.”<br/><br/>“I’ll make it facebook if I need to,” he quips, taking the pipe from Sammy before taking his own deep hit- coughing a <em> bit </em> harder than he normally might. Sammy reaches out to pat his back, shaking his head. <br/>“Average height, medium rage… but massive evasiveness. I wonder if furries would get offended at your denial~”<br/><br/>Recovering, Ben rolls his eyes, again trying to ignore the heat on his face when noting Sammy had seemed to forget to take his hand back. <br/>“...fine. If I had to go… I’d be a sugar glider. Get one of those gliding suits and paint it the right colours, couldn’t cost me more than 100 bucks. You happy?”<br/><br/>He looks at Sammy, seeing the <em> wide </em> grin across his face- and he looks quickly away again.<br/><br/>“...stop it.”<br/><br/>“What? I’m just surprised you’ve put enough thought into it to even figure <em> that </em> much. Should we order the gliding suit now? I’ll pay for the paints if you get it~”<br/><br/><em> “Stop it </em> , I <em> swear </em> Sammy, I’ll-”<br/><br/>“You’ll what?” He returns with a smirk, taking the pipe back again. “If I needed to stop you from doing anything, I could just put my hand on your head as you charge. Hope you find that as fun as I do~”<br/><br/>“Maybe you should just dress up as a shotgun then, huh? <em> Shotgun Sammy </em> , you already have your furry identity.”<br/><br/>The smirk fell awake, and Sammy breathed out the smoke he’d been holding in. “...preeeeetty sure I’d be kicked right out. Though, you know... I <em> could </em> dress up as a hunter. Bet that’d be a riot- bring one of those bb shotguns with me, I could borrow one of Ron’s flannels… though it might hang off a bit. Shotgun Sammy, shooting the- oh that’s in poor taste, <em> yikes.”<br/></em> <br/>He passes the pipe back, grimacing at the joke that he caught, and Ben stuffs more green into the end. “Careful Sammy, if you come after the woodland critters, I’ll shotgun <em> you,” </em> he mutters, the slight <em> innuendo </em> of the phrase coming to his head before he nearly drops the pipe- which had Sammy nearly leaning across Ben’s lap to catch it. The smirk was back, and he seemed <em> much </em> less tense than before, and Ben busied himself with taking his hit. That was <em> absolutely </em> not the words he had wanted to say, in the order he’d said them in, and the image that popped into his head was <em> certainly </em> not something he was trying to immediately push aside. The warmth building in his gut was just the high that was coming on, yeah.<br/><br/>Not because his friend was leaning closer, his face lower than Ben’s with how he was draping over their chairs, strands of loose hair escaped from that bun he wore it in and framing the sharp curve of his jaw…<br/><br/>Well…<br/><br/>Ben had to look away from all of that.<br/><br/>“You’ll <em> shotgun </em> me, Ben, huh? Here, I thought we were friends, and now you threaten my life.” He poked Ben in the chest, causing him to cough out softly, still not quite able to look Sammy in the eye. “So are you gonna borrow one of Ron’s guns and chase after me, Ben? Gun me down where I run?” Narrowing his eyes, he leaned closer. “I wonder if you could even hit me- I mean, your aim can’t be great with those glasses.”<br/><br/>Ah, he was a bit too close, wasn’t it?<br/><br/>“...Sammy,” he warned, his voice ashier than it normally would be as he glared- and his friend leaned back, still smirking.<br/><br/>“...so a sugar glider, huh? Think you could pull it off?”<br/><br/>Ben’s glare stays on his face, but it <em> does </em> fade slightly, the conversation topic getting easier to handle with the comforting floating sensation. “...sure. I could pull it off,” he states firmly, handing the pipe back to Sammy. “So long as there’s no shotgun toting madman running around.”<br/><br/>Sammy shrugs, lighting the pipe again. “I mean, sugar gliders are cute, you could probably pull it off.”<br/><br/>And Ben <em> sputters, </em> blinking rapidly and moving enough in his seat that Sammy nearly coughed into the pipe.<br/><br/>But it was as though he wasn’t even aware that he’d said the words out loud, straightening in his seat and looking at Ben with wide eyes, smoke still trailing slightly from his lips and nose.<br/><br/>“I- ah... that is.” He coughed into his fist, handing back the pipe again. “...weeee’re two adults, we can be adult about talking about that stuff,” he mutters, as if trying to assure himself, and Ben lets out a weak chuckle, rubbing at his warmed face with one cooled hand.<br/><br/>“H. Heh, yeah, I mean, I uh, I <em> am </em> adorable. Absolutely,” he adds, his voice cracking slightly. “That’s me, cute as a damn sugar glider Ben Arnold- why else would I even suggest that as an idea? Hahah, it’s just a fitting one? Hah…” He clenches his jaw shut to stop the word spillage, before lighting the pipe again, breathing in the smoke- <br/><em> That </em> could stop him from speaking, at least, and he looked away from Sammy, glad he hadn’t let any <em> other </em> words loose. But Sammy was smirking again, back to leaning over the arms of the chairs, back to being close again and causing the heat to creep up the back of Ben’s neck.<br/><br/>“Aww, did my little comment get to you? Can’t imagine the thoughts going on in your head right now.”<br/><br/><em> “N-no!” </em> He coughs out, smoke pouring from his mouth as he slaps his hand over his face. “Sammy, I- I’m not, hhhh. I’m fine, okay? I’m just thinking normal thoughts on a normal night, while we enjoy this nice and <em> very </em> normal imbibement of the devil’s lettuce. Okay? It’s normal.”<br/><br/>He couldn’t allow himself to think of how warm he was with Sammy this much closer- he wouldn’t.<br/><br/>There were like, four gay guys in King Falls- Ben had decided a <em> while </em> ago that it’d be easier to just focus on girls. He liked girls, okay? He could just settle for being able to like girls. He liked Emily- he <em> thought </em> that maybe, she liked him back. Or she was just being nice. His experience with either situation was a bit… limited.<br/><br/>But Sammy…<br/><br/>He wasn’t even any of the things Ben usually <em> liked </em> in a guy. He was too tall, he was too unshaven, he had about what, ten years on Ben? And <em> shit, </em> he was a weird crunchy granola <em> city </em> hippie. Definitely not his type.<br/><br/>But here he was, that crooked smile over the- okay, <em> trimmed </em> beard, he was <em> so </em> granola crunch bar but he <em> did </em> seem to take pride in his appearance to a degree. And he didn’t reek of BO, which helped. Honestly, he usually just smelled like… honey, and almonds. That nice <em> organic </em> shit he was now putting into Ben’s shower. And <em> oh </em> boy he was paying a lot of attention to the way his best friend smelled and not to the words coming out of his mouth- something something ‘average height medium rage’ something and “What, no come-back?”<br/><br/>He was smirking again, and Ben was <em> uncomfortable </em> about it.<br/><br/>“I’m sure whatever clever thing that just came out of your mouth was truly inspired, but I might be drifting a bit too high to hear anything that you’re saying. I’m high above you, Sammy. Your words can’t hurt me here.”<br/><br/>Smirking, Sammy sits up, taking a hit from the pipe, singing as he exhales a song Ben picked up quickly. “Oh he’s so hiiiiiii-ee-ai-igh, high above me~”<br/><br/>Oh he wasn’t using a silly voice. That was his proper singing voice. That did send a damn shiver down Ben’s spine.<br/><br/>“You bet your ass I am,” he quips, his voice cracking slightly, causing Sammy to fall into a fit of giggles, literally falling across the chairs’ arms again, his arm in Ben’s lap. “Wow, your tolerance go down or something?” He manages to continue, again ignoring the heat creeping from his neck to his shoulders. “I know I’m hilarious, but the ego stroking’s getting a bit much.”<br/><br/>Sammy just shook his head, turning so that his legs kept him wedged between the wall and Ben’s more stationary seat-<br/><br/>Letting him turn over onto his back, looking up at Ben’s face as he wore that stoned smile on his.<br/><br/>“...shit, why don’t we record when we do this?” He asks, reaching for the pipe again, and Ben held it up and away from him.<br/><br/>“Because, Sammy Stevens, <em> you </em> don’t like podcasts. I keep sayin, could be great if you let it be- but hey, I guess radio’s enough for the Florida Man.”<br/><br/>Reaching higher, Ben suppresses a chuckle as his fingertips brush against the bowl, letting the other man tug his arm down by the sleeve of his sweater. Shrugging, Sammy takes the pipe from him, lighting it again. “...I mean, I think it might be. A good timeslot for me, lots of cheap or free-use music to utilize, a cute co-host, steady pay…”<br/><br/>And Ben tries to hide his reaction to that by coughing at the smoke-cloud Sammy had exhaled in front of his face.<br/><br/>“Ah, wa. Come again on that last bit, Sammy?”<br/><br/>“...a good co-host and steady pay.”<br/><br/>The man had clamped his jaw shut, but Ben could see him <em> try </em> to recover- what, had he had a fucking Freudian slip or something- wait, no, he misheard. They both had to be pretty high at this point. <em> Good </em> co-host, yeah, right, that was what he’d heard-<br/><br/>Wait.<br/><br/>Scowling, he takes the bowl back. “I think you mean <em> great </em> co-host, thank you <em> very </em> much.”<br/><br/>“...yeah,” Sammy mumbles, turning his head to the side, and Ben tilts his head to the side, looking over his friend with a bit of concern. “...you just stoned, or are you having a mood-drop?”<br/><br/>“...might be alright if I had another hit. I’m about 99% where I want to be right now.”<br/><br/>Nodding, Ben checked the bowl- scowling slightly at what he saw. Sammy lifted his head slightly, before letting it drop back down. “What’s the long face for? Is it cashed?”<br/><br/>Shaking his head, Ben reaches for the box again- the scowl deepening when he sees how empty it was. “...no, but there’s like, one hit left- barely enough for a dave hit, honestly.”<br/><br/>“...oh. I mean… shift’s over in less than an hour, I can wait.”<br/><br/>“I could go out to the car-” He even starts to move, but Sammy grabs the front of his sweater, keeping him in place-<br/><br/>A smirk on his face like an idea had just come to him.<br/><br/>“...I mean. You said you were gonna shotgun me, right?”<br/><br/>Oh and Ben felt more than a chill then- it was like his body was burning, but frozen in place. <em> Boy </em> was it hard to not to let it show- at least, he felt he was doing an alright job. But if he weren’t so stoned then, he probably <em> would </em> have bolted. And a part of it even…<br/><br/>Felt it could get him to <em> laugh </em> .<br/><br/>“Wh. Wha I. What are you saying, Sammy? Am I gonna shotgun Shotgun Sammy Stevens? Are you asking me for a hit like that? Huh? I mean, not that it’s an issue, I mean- I could. I could do that, I could, then we both get a hit, problem solved, no smoke or weed wasted and-”<br/><br/>And Sammy was just chuckling as he babbled, causing him to close his mouth again.<br/><br/>“...look, Ben, if it’s something you’re not comfortable with-”<br/><br/>“N-no! No, I mean, we’re friends- it’s not something I have a <em> problem </em> with, I…”<br/><br/>Sammy’s chuckling grew only louder, until he’s shaking in his seat- and truthfully, that flare-up of energy in Ben was <em> lifting </em> a bit, heat racing up his back as he scowled down at his friend, literally shaking from mirth, hair trailing down his cheek…<br/><br/>Before he could lose the brutal <em> fuck it </em> energy racing through him, Ben takes the last hit, breathing in as much and as deeply as he could-<br/><br/>His hand on Sammy’s chest to steady him, and he’s down, lips pressing a bit sloppily to his friend’s.<br/><br/>And Sammy stills, like he had been waiting for this reaction- but Ben doesn’t. He doesn’t think about that, either, doesn’t really notice how easily Sammy breathed in the hit, expectant.<br/><br/>It was hard to notice over the way he was tilting his head to get a better angle with Ben. How his lips seemed to burn as Sammy’s moved lazily against his. Over how Sammy’s hand was reaching up to cup the back of Ben’s head, smoke pouring from the corners of their mouths as his teeth scrape lightly against his lower lip- <br/>The sound that escapes him though has him startled back into reality, and Ben breaks contact, pulling back with a burning face and tingling lips.<br/><br/>Sammy opens his mouth, before sitting up slowly, both of them silent for a long minute-<br/><br/>The <em> ON AIR </em> light coming on again as the last notes of the song playing faded.<br/><br/>Clearing his throat, Sammy returns to his mic, the light above showing Ben just how <em> red </em> his face had gotten. But, his host personality was <em> on </em> now, it seemed, like the glowing letters above them.<br/><br/>“Mhm, well, guess we’re back, folks- 4:45 in the morning, my phone tells me that the sun’s just starting to rise. I mean, there are no windows in here, hard to tell if that’s true. Unless Ben wants to go and check outside for me- Ben?”<br/><br/>But Ben was sitting there, silent, still a touch shell-shocked from what had just happened, and trying very <em> very </em> hard not to touch where he’d felt Sammy’s teeth on his lip. Sammy really… seemed to take that in stride, and he chuckles into the mic. “...folks, I think our Ben Arnold in a fit of absolute unprofessionalism has fallen asleep at the studio~ Now, you know I don’t like to clock out early- gotta pay those bills- but. Well, I think I’ll have to drive this poor sap home. Grab some cornpuppies on the go for when he’s more lucid- and maybe let him have a proper morning’s sleep. This is KFAM, 660 on the radio dial- I hope you have a good morning, folks.”<br/><br/>He offers a small smile to Ben, one that has a more… pleasant, shock of warmth creeping down Ben’s spine.<br/><br/>“...I hope yours is as good as mine has been.”<br/><br/>He nods to Ben, who flicks everything at the switchboard off- the shorter man standing quickly.<br/><br/>“Sammy, I-” <br/>“Ben, look-”<br/><br/>And they have to stop, both of them, looking at each other over the table between them. Sammy scratches the back of his neck, eyes falling to the table between them. “...cornpuppies and home, then?” He murmurs, lifting his eyes back to Ben- how the hell could he look so…<br/><br/>So…<br/><br/>Ben scowled a moment, before letting his expression shift into a smirk, his face burning red as he mirrored Sammy- hand on his own neck. “...I mean… we’re out of green, we should get home soon, huh?” His voice cracking slightly as he tried to force confidence.<br/><br/>Slowly, Sammy stepped around the table- putting his hand at Ben’s back, not an <em> unfamiliar </em> gesture, really, but…<br/><br/>There was more weight and <em> warmth </em> to how he held it there. Scowling again, he reached up to tuck that stray lock of hair away, glad to see how Sammy’s pupils seem to <em> widen </em> slightly at the contact.<br/><br/>And that smirk again was <em> unfortunate </em> in how it got to Ben, and he could see in Sammy’s eyes now that the taller man fucking <em> knew </em> it.<br/><br/>He fucking<br/><br/>Knew<br/><br/>It<br/><br/>All<br/><br/><em> Along.<br/></em> <em> <br/></em> “Alright- and maybe…”<br/><br/>He opened the door for them, dark overcast skies looking down in defiance of Sammy’s forecast. “...maybe, I’ll show you why <em> I’m </em> the one called shotgun.”<br/><br/>It sounded so corny, Ben started to laugh. “If that’s a dick joke Sammy I <em> swear-”<br/></em> <em> <br/></em> The other man laughing in response-<br/><br/>The sound of their shared laughter filling the empty parking lot outside of the studio, raising to the air, hanging warmly in the faint mist of the King Falls AM.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Gotta thank HalfDryad and my buddy Katie for keeping me motivated~<br/>And remember, death of the author is a fun lil tool, we can ALWAYS make things more gay and BETTER gay.<br/>Now folks, the sun is rising, and I feel the claws of sleep in me skin.<br/>Good morning, have a good AM, in King Falls, Gay Falls- or wherever you may be.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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